rest in peace

today marks 8 years since my cousin's death.  she was killed in a car accident on her way to work, a month shy of her 21st birthday.

i still remember the day my dad told me; i had just made it back to my stuffy apartment from class, and it was a stifling, summer day.  i remember this because i went outside to take the call, hoping it was more bearable than indoors with no AC.  the call was weird from the start.  there wasn't a happy greeting or fillers ("how are you?", "what are you doing?" etc.), and my dad's voice wasn't right.  he mentioned the accident, and naturally, i inquired whether my cousin was okay.  he told me she didn't make it, and i asked him what he meant, because the reality of the situation would not take hold in my mind.

things moved quickly after i hung up, stunned, crying and stopping, crying and stopping.  i spoke with my professors to be excused from my next few classes, packed and drove home, and my family piled into our van to make the drive to chicago.  we were on the road all night.  it was a quiet and methodical trip, the shock and disbelief still hanging in the air.

during the wake and funeral, there were 2 instances that were the most sobering to me: my dad literally sobbing (one of the few times i've seen my dad cry in my entire life) and the look on my uncle's face when he shoveled dirt over the casket.  those images do not ever leave a person, and even to this day the thought of them gives me a sense of sadness and heartache.

i kept the placard from the funeral service which lists the dates of my cousin's birth and death accompanied by a touching poem.  for a long time, i had it stuck in the visor of my car, like a warning to drive safely (although my mom reminded me quite enough).  then it moved to my apartment refrigerator.  even after a number of moves to several apartments and finally to my house now, i never lost it.  today, there is a place for it on our fridge, amidst the magnets and wedding save-the-dates and birth announcements, in memoriam.  it is a constant reminder that life is short, but also that it moves on.

during my senior year in college (less than a year after the funeral), when it came time to choose my location for my month-long out-of-state internship, i decided to go back to the windy city to work at my aunt's hospital.  i knew i would not have many chances to spend time with her every day, so the decision was easy.  she picked me up every weekday morning (i was staying with my cousin from my mom's side who lived nearby) for the commute to evanston, and we'd chat about anything and everything.. i confided in her about my boyfriend and we talked about my mom alot.  she pointed out the cemetery where my cousin was buried, which we'd pass along our route.  i asked her if it was hard to go by the gravesite every day, but she told me that she had picked it purposely so that she could stop by whenever she felt she needed to, like her daughter's presence was always there.  it displayed a quiet strength in my aunt that i had not had the opportunity to see before.

i didn't tell my aunt this, but before my month was up, i went to visit my cousin's grave.  the cousin whom i was staying with helped me accomplish this.  one saturday, we drove up to evanston, stopped to pick up a bouquet of flowers and disposable camera (thanks to his good sense on both accounts), entered the cemetery and found her plot (after much searching and eventually going to the main office to obtain a map and directions).  once there, we stood in silence for quite some time.  it was a bright, sunny day.  we shot some photos that i could take home to my family, namely my father, and then we left.

as each year passes, especially near the anniversary of her death, i think of my cousin, wondering how she would have turned out, what she would be doing now.  sometimes i am sad that i did not have the chance to know her more than i did, that we were not as close as we could or should have been.  i think about what i could tell her now, 8 years later.  i would thank her for the lessons she's taught me: to remember that life is a blessing.  to cherish every moment.  and that over time, it's possible for joy to come after loss.